Feeling good? Well do ya...punk?

Christ, I feel good today! I feel all warm and fuzzy - kinda like balls wrapped in flannel. The last time I felt this good was the morning of Sept. 11/01. Now before you go all politically correct on my ass, let me explain.

September 11/01 started out as one of the best days ever for me. I awoke that morning with an inexplicable feeling of absolute inner peace and instead of my usual routine of trying to get synapses firing by watching morning news, I thought I'd ride this peace wave and enjoy a nice coffee and cigarette out on the deck in total silence (other than my occassional humming of the chorus of "Video Killed The Radio Star"). I gleefully got ready for work and even put some effort into chosing the clothes I'd wear. I grab my discman and put in The Hanson Bros. (no, not the pukey boy band but the fun, non-political version of No Means No) and head to the bus stop. My bus shows up and I walk on, throw in the required 8 bucks or whatever, flush the change for the driver and inadvertently yell out the intro to the Hanson Bros. remake of the Stompin Tom classic, "The Hockey Song." The intro for it is the same as all their songs and they do it as an homage to the Ramones. The intro is thus: "1-2-3-4!" I felt embarassed but other than the bus driver wincing, no one else seemed to care.

Now, when I worked downtown, I'd get dropped off about 3 blocks from my work and walk the pedway to a coffee shop and get another jolt of nature's broom. The pedway was always empty and I'd normally use that time to talk to myself and work out jokes or song lyrics I was writing. That day though, I danced. I danced and spun and would've done the splits, but my balls were wrapped in flannel, hence reduced mobility.

I compose myself, turn a corner that leads to a hallway that brings me to the coffee shop and enter it with a "We're off to see the Wizard..." step I enjoy doing from time to time. Roger (the owner of Aroma Borealis) is standing with his back to the counter, listening intently to his radio he had on a back shelf. By this time I've put Zappa into my discman and rather than saying "Good morning, Roger," I sing, " Gotta cheerleader here wants to help with my paper, let her do all the work and maybe later I'll rape her."

He turns. He's ashen. He says, "One of the Trade Center towers just collapsed." I reply in my best Zappa voice, "Watch me now, I'm going down." Then I giggle. Then I get the story. Then I cry. Then I go back to feeling pretty good about myself and shitty about everything else.

Now when I feel this way, I get worried.